Story of Their Life

by Charah

The Stage is Yours invites its global audience to witness the dreams and despair of aspiring pop stars. Chuck Bartowski joins a diverse group of contestants, each fighting their fears and ambitions in the quest for stardom. With the talented Sarah Walker as a guest judge, the auditions begin. Which acts will win the hearts of viewers and propel themselves to global fame? AU.

2. First Impressions

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey. I'm some days behind schedule because I picked up a concussion from a nasty whack to the head, which took ten days to recover from. Thanks for the feedback on chapter one. As explained in the last chapter, Ch2 is supposed to be read as if it's the second half of the first chapter. I need to state quickly that the Sarah/Zondra issue won't be a main story focus beyond the first two chapters. I have to reference this because I don't want to red herring you guys into thinking it will be a recurring theme—because it won't. It's merely a device to set up Sarah's backstory and to show where her mind is at in the opening.

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Story of Their Life

Chapter Two: First Impressions

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July 1, 2024

Starview Arena

London

Vivian Volkoff floated off the stage, her steps light with triumph, face aglow with a dazzling smile. She'd nailed her audition, and she knew it.

Sarah leaned back, pressing the bridge of her nose with two fingers, watching the fiery-haired woman disappear backstage. Vivian's performance was good—impressive, even—but something deep in Sarah's gut had held her back from hitting the golden buzzer.

Zondra, on the other hand, looked like she was about to explode. "I cannot believe you three!" she snapped, her voice tight with disbelief, flipping her hair back with a dramatic flick. As the crowd settled, she leaned in toward Sarah, Roan, and Hannah, her face flushed with anger. "You honestly mean to tell me that wasn't golden buzzer-worthy? What's wrong with you?!"

"She wasn't as good as you think, madame," Roan dismissed with a casual wave of his hand, his tone as indifferent as ever.

Beckman shot Roan a glare that spoke volumes—her disagreement clear, even without a word.

But Sarah gave a small, tired sigh. "I hit the green buzzer, Zondra. She's through to the next round. What more do you want?"

"It's not the same!" Zondra nearly shouted, frustration pouring off her in waves. "The golden buzzer isn't just a pass, it's a statement, and she deserved it!"

"Listen," Sarah said, folding her arms across her chest, her patience thinning fast. The long day had already drained her, and they were only halfway through. "The golden buzzer is for perfect auditions—no doubts, no hesitations. I didn't feel that with Vivian, okay?"

Zondra's eyes rolled so hard it looked like they might stay stuck. "Whatever," she muttered, detached from Sarah's reasoning.

Hannah leaned forward slightly, catching Zondra's eye. "I'm with Sarah. Vivian was great, but she wasn't flawless. She had you and a lot of the crowd dancing, but we're not obligated to feel the same way just because you do."

Sarah gave a resolute nod. "More like Zondra was making a fool of herself," she muttered.

Zondra's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Want to repeat that for everyone to hear?"

Sarah met her gaze with a slow, deliberate eye-roll. "I said—"

"Can someone fetch a double vodka on the rocks, without delay?" Roan cut in, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Zondra. "There's an angry cat on the loose. It's getting loud and needs mellowing out."

The audience erupted in laughter, feeding off the tense exchange and drama brewing between the judges.

"I never could understand why someone with an image like that," Sarah quipped, her tone cool as she pointed over at Zondra, "wasn't a whiskey girl."

"Har-har, very funny, Walker!" Zondra shot back immediately, her tone dripping with irony, though her expression betrayed her claim.

However, Hannah's hand flew to her mouth, barely stifling a laugh, while the audience shared another exchange of laughter, loving the sharp jab from the gorgeous blonde bombshell. Zondra's composure cracked; her lips curled into a snarl as she muttered a string of curses under her breath. It was the first time today Zondra lost her cool, and Sarah savored the moment, leaning back with a triumphant smirk.

Zondra was finally on the back foot, and Sarah intended to keep her there. If this was the game Zondra wanted to play, Sarah was more than ready. After all, she'd never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one that promised a bit of well-earned satisfaction.

Two could play this game, a game Sarah intended to win.

With the disagreement cooling, the judges turned their attention to the next contestant, who appeared on the sound system overhead with their voiceover introduction.

Hey. My name is Daniel Shaw. I'm 17, from Yorkshire, and I'm here to show what I can do.

A flux of curiosity passed through the audience, while the judges exchanged skeptical looks, processing the sparse introduction. Zondra, never one to hold her tongue, raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Before anyone could reply, Shaw's voiceover continued.

My song choice is Somewhere Only We Know, by Keane. And yeah, that's it. I'm just here to sing.

The simplicity of Shaw's words struck a chord with the room, though not in the way most would expect. It was as if his lack of flair spoke louder than anything he could have said. The casual detachment of his introduction, while unassuming, carried a quiet weight that made even the most seasoned judges pause. To them, it was an unspoken challenge—a dare to look beyond the surface and to find the depth in what he wasn't saying.

The panel of five exchanged thoughtful glances. The choice of Somewhere Only We Know—a song laden with nostalgia and yearning—was a bold one. It required sincerity and vulnerability, things that Shaw's cool, distant demeanor hadn't yet suggested he was capable of.

Ahead of the song, one priority question lingered: could a boy so composed carry the rawness of the song's emotion, or would he fail to connect with the audience?

Roan, skeptic as always, leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated air of nonchalance, his tone oozing dry amusement. "Well, let's hope his singing holds more charm than his personality. Because talent, my dear, that's what sells. Boredom, on the other hand, is what sends showbiz straight to the grave." He took a deliberate sip from his martini, eyes glinting with mischief.

His comment wasn't lost on the others, but despite Roan's dismissiveness, a quiet intrigue had settled over the panel and audience.

Moments later, Shaw stepped onto the stage, causing an influx of murmurs to spread through the crowd. His song and introduction alone didn't capture their interest—the boy himself did. He was undeniably attractive—tall, with a refined, chiseled face and a neatly put-together appearance. Shaw's plain gray button-down and simple jeans mirrored his personality: understated, yet impossible to ignore. His dark eyes, piercing and unreadable, held a quiet depth, and his expression remained neutral—almost stoic as if emotions were things to be carefully contained rather than shown.

To those in the venue who relished a good mystery, his presence was irresistible, drawing them in with an almost magnetic allure. They leaned in, captivated by the enigma he exuded, unable to look away.

In place, Daniel Shaw signaled for the music to start, and when the first gentle notes of the piano filled the air, he took a slow breath, allowing the song's weight to settle. His voice, smooth and measured, flowed through the arena with an unexpected richness. It wasn't the soaring, emotional highs the judges were used to hearing, but a controlled, almost meditative delivery that drew the audience—and judges—in with its subtlety.

As the song progressed, Shaw's deep, resonant bass voice passed through the sound system overhead, each note carefully sculpted, yet effortlessly delivered. There was something about his tone—velvety and heavy with maturity—that made people listen, and lean in. Neither loud nor grand, but captivating all the same. The restraint in his performance spoke volumes; it held just enough back to make you want more.

One by one, the judges pressed their buzzers, their chairs turning to face him as if by instinct. They all saw the same thing: a good-looking young man with a quiet, almost distant air—his manner unruffled, but his voice mature well beyond his years. His performance was a stark contrast to his lack of outward charisma, almost jarring, leaving the panel unsure whether his lack of engagement would become a bane or a blessing.

Sarah's brow furrowed as she studied him, her gaze sharp and calculating, as if sizing him up to determine everything he offered as a person—inside and out.

She couldn't deny that Shaw was attractive, the best looking today. His good looks and his mysterious demeanor drew her in, but amongst his allure, there was a lingering shadow that unsettled her. His performance was hauntingly beautiful, but it was so restrained and serious, lacking the exuberance and connection the audience often craved. Her mind ticked over the idea of a pop star who held back, more at ease in silence than in the spotlight. Could he truly captivate the world with that?

As Sarah's mind lingered over the thought, beside her, Hannah, lips pursed, seemed equally torn. Hannah found his vocal control impressive, and a looker of that he was, but she doubted whether Shaw's personality—so far reserved and remote—could connect with a mainstream audience.

Roan leaned back, his lips curling into a half-amused, half-bored smile. "Mystique, huh?" he mused. "Either it's his secret weapon, or it's going to be his biggest roadblock."

Roan's comment hung in the air, like a storm cloud threatening rain, causing the judges to pause, their fingers hovering over their chairs as to whether he deserved a golden buzz, uncertainty settling over the panel.

Soon, with each judge refraining from hitting the golden button, the song ended.

Shaw gave a quiet, almost imperceptible nod toward the judges. The applause that followed was warm but hesitant—polite, but not overwhelmingly enthusiastic, as if the audience, too, were still trying to figure him out.

Beckman was the first to speak, her voice calm and deliberate. "Shaw, you have an incredible voice for someone so young… But—" She paused, weighing her words carefully. "we're looking for someone who can command an audience, someone who can make them feel something. Do you think you could bring more… life to your performances?"

Shaw's expression didn't change. His eyes held Beckman's with an unwavering steadiness. "I appreciate that, but I want to be true to who I am. I don't want to become someone else just to fit a mold," he said, his voice clear and firm.

A lot of the audience nodded. For many of them, Shaw's mysterious personality was admirable.

Even some judges appreciated his sincerity, their faces softening from their uncertainty somewhat.

Sarah took over, her tone gentle and encouraging, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I get that, Daniel, and staying true to yourself is crucial," she said, her voice inviting him to trust her. "But there's a way to show authenticity while still reaching out. It's about letting the audience in, sharing who you are, not just with your voice but with your presence. If you can bring that to your performance, you have the potential to reach a wider audience."

Shaw's expression softened a fraction as he nodded. "I respect that, Sarah. Especially from someone I admire." He hesitated briefly, his gaze locking onto hers with a surprising intensity. "But this is who I am. This is my personality. And I don't want to lose that, even if it means going against what's expected."

Sarah's smile wavered, leaning back slightly in her chair, feeling an unexpected pang of discomfort. His focused glance and his words—and the conviction behind them—unsettled her in a way she hadn't anticipated. Shaw's unyielding stance struck a chord, reminding her of herself when she first started and who she still was: headstrong, unwilling to compromise, driven by a fierce sense of identity that refused to bend, no matter the cost.

There was a beat of silence as Sarah considered him, a strange mix of respect, yet frustration, simultaneously swirling inside her. She understood exactly what he was feeling, and it made it harder to push him any further toward change. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of herself in his defiance, and it both inspired and worried her because, as stubborn as Shaw was, his personality was unmistakenly flat.

With Sarah falling silent, Roan leaned forward, arms crossed and brow knitted in a look of deep consideration. "Authenticity is crucial, yes, but it's only a fraction of what it takes to make it in this business," he said, his tone edged with warning. "The industry rewards those who can adapt and evolve. Keep that in mind as you move forward, Daniel."

Shaw's gaze shifted across the panel of judges, his eyes steady and composed. "I will," he said, his voice calm yet resolute.

Zondra gave him a short, accepting nod. "Alright then. We'll see you in the next round."

With a last nod, Shaw turned and walked off the stage, leaving without a hint of flair or showmanship—just a quiet, deliberate exit that seemed to capture his whole essence. There was no thrill, no excitement, just the simple click of his shoes echoing into the silence.

As the stage lights dimmed, the judges exchanged thoughtful glances.

"He's got the looks, and a voice to match them," Zondra admitted with a long sigh. "But there's a flatness there—a lack of spark. It worries me."

Hannah, leaning forward, added her observation. "Il est à moitié génial, mais seulement à moitié complet," He's half great, but only half complete she said in a lilting French accent. Her words hung in the air, carrying a touch of elegance that perfectly summarized Shaw's dilemma.

Roan raised an eyebrow at the poetic critique. "Halfway to greatness, huh?" he murmured as if weighing the truth of it. "The French sure have an enchanting way with words."

The other judges nodded, a hint of uncertainty lingering in their expressions. With Shaw out of sight, they knew they'd just witnessed potential—but whether the enigma would blossom or fade remained to be seen.

As the others shifted their focus to the next act, Sarah hesitated, her gaze caught on the empty stage. There was something in Shaw's stubborn resolve that struck a loop, a reminder of herself in a different body, a woman who refused to bend or break for anyone.

It unsettled her far more than she cared to admit.

However, the sudden mechanical turning of the judges' chairs to re-face the audience helped her to focus on the next act.

The next contestant's voice soon crackled over the sound system.

Hey, I'm Devon Woodcomb, but everyone pretty much calls me Captain Awesome!

Sarah let out a soft laugh, caught off guard by the immediate burst of energy so soon after Shaw's subdued performance.

Hannah rolled her eyes, a bemused smile spreading across her face. "From one extreme to the other, just like that."

I'm 18, from Chelmsford. Music and dance are an expression for me, a period of enjoyment to unwind and relax, not a way of life. Competing on this show is just one goal in a series of many I'm seeking to overcome.

Heads lifted throughout the venue, intrigued by Devon's refreshingly upbeat attitude. Even the judges seemed to lean forward a little more, interest piqued.

Zondra then gave an approving nod. "Now this is more like it."

Devon continued his introduction, It would be awesome if I could win this thing, but if I don't, that's fine too, because my true dream is to become a cardiothoracic surgeon and save lives. Now that will be awesome!

Sarah's grin widened. "I want to press already," she said, her excitement barely contained, her fingers hovering above the green buzzer finding it hard to restrain herself.

The crowd erupted in cheers, encouraging Sarah to press her button, already drawn to Devon's magnetic presence.

Hannah giggled, glancing at Sarah with a knowing expression. "He has a heart, a rare commodity these days, it seems."

My choice of song is Sexbomb, by Tom Jones. This one's for you, Ellie. You're awesome!

A collective "Aww!" echoed through the venue as the audience swooned. No one knew who Ellie was, but Devon's sincerity, combined with his irresistible charisma, made them believe she must be someone truly special—just as he appeared to be.

Even before his arrival, the excitement was already electric, but when Devon appeared in the spotlight, the crowd's energy peaked to a new high.

The craze exploded further as most of the girls within the venue took in his appearance, his athletic frame and charming, sculpted looks catching every eye. Whistles and eager murmurs swept through every tier of the audience.

Devon responded with his signature smile—a confident, almost playful grin and a wink that only added to the frenzy of the over-exuberant women in attendance.

"I'm going to regret this if his voice doesn't match his personality and stunning looks," Zondra, hearing the roars grow louder, said, then hit her green buzzer, her chair turning to see the source of the commotion.

Sarah and Hannah exchanged a glance, each frustrated at missing the opportunity to be the first to react. Without wasting another second, they slammed their buzzers in perfect synchrony, their chairs spinning around in unison with a dramatic flair that matched their impatience.

With a thumbs up and a grin towards the producers, Devon signaled for the song to begin.

When it did, Devon launched into his rendition of Sexbomb. His voice boomed across the auditorium, playful yet commanding, each word dripping with charisma, his sultry tone conveying perfect sex appeal. His movements were effortless, and he had a way of connecting with the audience that seemed natural. Within seconds, the crowd was on their feet, dancing and singing along, a spell cast over them.

Even Beckman, usually one to take longer before making up her mind, hit her buzzer to turn, captivated by the natural star center stage.

Zondra and Hannah exchanged an amused glance, then jumped up and began dancing in their seats, to the audience's delight.

Sarah tapped along, a small smile creeping onto her face as Devon's commanding presence and energetic charisma enthralled the venue.

Roan, last to turn, pressed his green buzzer with a deliberate flourish and raised his martini glass, confident he was about to witness something special. As his chair spun, he took in Devon's sensual dance moves and impressive vocals. Roan's face lit up with an appreciative smile. He paused, savoring the moment, then took a slow, triumphant sip of his martini, as if he'd already secured his next star. "Now that is stage presence!" he muttered.

Beckman swayed in time with the rhythm, unable to resist the enchanting song delivered by a commanding performer.

When Devon launched into the chorus, the crowd erupted, singing along with him. Sarah and Hannah couldn't help themselves—they turned to each other, clasped hands, and belted out, "Sexbomb! Sexbomb!" their faces lit up with joy as they joined in the fun.

Devon's infectious enthusiasm—with his amazing looks, great voice, and natural star presence—had almost everyone on their feet, dancing and singing along.

As he powered through the rest of the song, his stage presence owning the arena, the judges couldn't resist. One by one, they hit their golden buzzers, each press sending a surge of excitement through the crowd. The final verdict came with golden lights all around the stage and a shower of golden confetti that rained over Devon, marking him as the second perfect audition of the day.

Devon performed a spin with effortless grace, the move full of playful energy as the golden confetti cascaded around him. He ended the turn with a cheeky wink at the judges, just as Sexbomb reached its final note, sending the venue to a fever pitch.

For a long moment, the audience erupted in thunderous applause, a sea of cheering faces united in agreement. No one in the arena could dispute that Devon earned his golden ticket—his performance had everyone on their feet, swept up in the sheer joy of his star quality.

Roan lifted his martini, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips toward the charismatic performer holding court. "Bravo," he drawled with his signature suave charm.

The rest of the judges led the standing ovation, signaling what everyone sensed—the birth of the show's next big star.

"Oh, yes!" Zondra exclaimed, beaming with excitement. "You've got it all, Devon!" To drive the point home, she hit her golden buzzer again, the sound cutting through the cheers like a victory bell.

Devon's grin widened, soaking in the adoration as the crowd's cheers grew louder, the arena sharing a fevered energy for quite some time.

"I can't believe you're only 18!" Hannah shouted over the audience, her smile so wide she had to cover it with her hand. "You have the presence, charisma, and voice of someone in their 30s!"

Sarah quickly echoed the sentiment with an enthusiastic nod, the audience following suit, heads bobbing in agreement, swept up in the undeniable star power radiating from the guy on the stage.

"Thanks!" Devon shouted, grinning.

Sarah suppressed a laugh, then leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of her. "What I really want to know is, who is Ellie?"

The audience hushed, holding their breath, all eyes locked on Devon, awaiting the answer to the question that now buzzed in everyone's mind.

Devon's smile only widened, his face lighting up with warmth. "She's awesome," he said, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity that only deepened the intrigue. He paused, glancing down for a second as if recalling a private moment, then looked back up with a playful glint in his eyes. "She's... one of a kind," he added, his tone so genuine that it only fueled the crowd's fascination.

Sarah's brow lifted with interest. Whatever was between Devon and this mysterious Ellie, it was clear he was already smitten. "Well, she's one lucky girl."

The audience signaled their agreement.

Devon nodded appreciatively.

Beckman, usually composed and unflinching, allowed herself a rare, genuine smile as the noise settled. Leaning forward, she adjusted her glasses and addressed Devon directly, her tone steady but unusually warm. "Devon, I rarely say this, but you've got that rare spark we look for. You're confident without being too cocky, charismatic without even trying—and you can command a stage like you were born for it. You are exactly the kind of star I want to see rise from this show."

The crowd cheered on.

"Thanks!" Devon said, still grinning, enjoying the hospitality towards him from the 10,000 and 5 in front of him. "But actually, I gotta be honest—I'm more interested in musical theater. Not sure if pop stardom is my thing long term beyond this thing, for however long it lasts."

Roan's eyes widened in horror, then slapped his forehead, almost toppling his martini. "Really?! Musical theater?!" he said, leaning forward, his frustration immediate, his voice tinged. "You're here, in front of 10,000 people, with a voice and quintessential stage presence like that, and you're telling me pop stardom isn't your thing?!" he shook his head slowly, drawing out a long, dramatic sigh, the martini glass still trembling in his hand. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to make my job harder!"

Devon chuckled, his infectious laugh filling the arena as he shrugged. "Well, what can I say? I guess I'm just a little more complicated than your average pop star."

The audience chuckled along with him, drawn in by his easy charm.

Devon leaned further into the mic, his voice sincere. "I mean, I love the thought of musical theater. I've already performed in plays throughout my schooling. It's a place where I can really express myself. But my actual dream is to save lives. I want to be a cardiothoracic surgeon, and honestly, that's my priority. The music? That's just something I want to do part-time. A bit of a balance, you know? I want to give people my heart—on stage and off it."

The audience laughed, the charm of Devon's words mixing with the sincerity behind them. His easygoing nature, coupled with his ambitious yet humble perspective, had them hooked.

Even Sarah smiled, impressed, while Hannah raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected twist.

But Roan, his brow furrowed in annoyance, leaned back in his chair, increasingly frustrated. "Good god! First Tyler Martin, who wants to be a rock star… Two of the best acts today, and neither of them wants to be a pop star?!" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his voice dripping with disbelief. He took a long sip of his martini, a sharp edge to his tone as he added, "You know, talent like this could sell millions, and yet here you are, talking about... saving lives! I can't decide whether it's admirable or just a missed opportunity!"

"If it's what he wants," Zondra said with a nod, "He has my vote."

Sarah and Hannah conveyed their agreement with nods.

"Well, we'll see you at the global auditions, Devon, because you have a golden ticket," Beckman said with a nod of respect—more toward his musical talent rather than his aspirations.

"Awesome!" Devon shouted, beaming another grin at everyone in front of him.

The audience roared with applause, clapping, and cheering as Devon exited.

The judges, except for Roan, still in shock, joined the audience in the warm ovation. They continued applauding until Devon was out of sight, the energy from the crowd lingering in the air like a buzz of electricity.

When the applause faded, Roan sat back in his chair, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took another long sip from his martini, his gaze lingering on the empty stage. "Theater aspirations," he muttered, shaking his head, still unsettled. "Really? After that performance?"

Roan's voice tinged with disbelief, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as though trying to reconcile the electrifying talent he'd just witnessed with the idea of it being wasted on anything less than pop stardom. "Unbelievable," he finally added, a bitter chuckle escaping him, hanging onto his frustration.

The crowd laughed on.

X-X-X-X-X-X

One by one, the five music experts entered the judges' lounge in the Starview Arena, with a break for dinner.

They took seats around a table, exchanging glances, taking a moment to decompress after a whirlwind of auditions. The day had been intense, but there was still more to come. Plates of food soon appeared, and the conversation shifted into small talk.

"Well, what did we think of Tyler Martin?" Roan asked, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully. "The kid's got spirit, but I'm not sure he's a pop star. He said he would change, but I have my doubts."

Zondra nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I hate to admit it, but I gave him a golden buzzer because it was deserved. But..." She paused dramatically. "He's not pop material. That's for sure. All that energy, that passion—it belongs in rock. Not in pop."

Sarah, unable to agree with her nemesis on much, said, "He's got more than just the energy, though. He's got personality, and that goes a long way. He might surprise you."

"Surprise me?" Zondra said, rolling her eyes. "Sure, he'll surprise me. With a killer rock album one day, maybe. But not in the pop world. It's too... polished for him."

Hannah agreed to an extent. "His energy and that attitude of his? It would be an enormous asset in rock. But he's got time to figure it out. He's only just starting his journey."

Beckman conceded with a nod. "Well, if nothing else, I think we've found a star. Just maybe not the type we were expecting."

The judges took a moment with their food, then Zondra continued the conversation. "That kid, Devon, though? Now he's something special."

"Kid?" Sarah scoffed. "He seemed more mature than most people I've met."

Hannah suppressed a giggle. "Oui…And has developed adult looks to match it."

The rest of the panel shared nods.

"His audition was flawless," Beckman continued the discussion. "The complete package. The voice, the looks, the stage presence. Future stars like him are why we are doing this."

"That kid could be the next big thing," Roan mused. "Natural-born pop star, and yet—he doesn't even want it. He wants to go into theatre." His tone was mixed with admiration and frustration. "What is it with these kids today? He's got the potential to make millions, but he's talking about saving lives as a surgeon."

Sarah paused her salad to lean forward. "I think that's amazing, though. He wants to make a difference in the world. That's rare these days."

"You think saving lives is more important than being a global sensation?" Zondra raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Sarah nodded. "Yes, I do. Because he's not just chasing fame. He's got a plan, and who are we to dictate what's more meaningful?"

Zondra scoffed in reply.

"I respect it," Hannah said, smiling slightly. "I admire his honesty. Devon knows what he wants, and if he chooses theatre and saving lives over pop fame, well... that's admirable."

Roan sighed. "But it's hard to deny he's got everything we look for in a pop star. I think he could dominate if he wanted to. But musical theatre... it's not as easy to measure success. I'm curious to see what path he chooses once he's tasted what this show could turn him into."

They all sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, digesting the complexities of Devon's future before turning their attention back to the table.

Hannah cleared her throat, changing the topic. "An intriguing one was Daniel Shaw. What do you think about him?"

"Shaw's a mystery," Zondra said, a smirk crossing her face. "He's quiet, reserved. That's what some girls will love about him. He's the brooding type."

"There is potential there," Beckman added. "But, like you said, Zondra, the mystery could be his undoing. The quiet ones only go so far in this industry if they don't have the right hook."

"Girls love a mystery," Sarah agreed, giving a small shrug. "But he's going to have to show a lot more than that. Just looking broody and singing will not cut it. He has to let people see more of him. He can't keep everything locked up."

"I don't know," Zondra said with a sly grin. "I think it'll get him a decent following. But I also think it could be the thing that ultimately breaks him. It's hard to stay mysterious forever when people want more from you."

Sarah shook her head, slightly defensive. "He's still young. He'll figure it out. He doesn't need to be something he's not."

Roan chuckled. "It's not a bad angle. But it's also limiting. The quiet ones plateau unless they show more. Girls might love the mystery for a while, but eventually, they want something more."

The rest of the group conceded to Roan's point, but the lingering question of Shaw's future consumed their minds. He was talented, but his reserved personality seemed like it could be a double-edged sword in the spotlight.

After dinner, the mood lightened as the judges settled into the lounge area, the tension of discussing contestants easing into casual conversation. Soft music played in the background, and another bottle of wine opened as they made themselves comfortable. A few production staff mingled nearby, giving the judges space but keeping an ear out for any conversation worth noting.

The moonlight streaming through the enormous bow window created a silvery path across the floor as Hannah and Sarah settled onto a plush couch, watching the River Thames flow by.

They had only just met that day, but there was a relaxed warmth between them—Hannah's natural charm meeting Sarah's guarded but open curiosity. With the wine loosening tongues and inhibitions, they chatted easily, leaning in close to hear each other over the low murmur of voices as they awaited the show to resume.

"So," Hannah said, tucking a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. Her French accent gave her words a melodic lilt, and Sarah couldn't help but feel charmed. "Are you dating anyone right now? I heard rumors, but you know how this business is. It's hard to tell what's true."

Sarah chuckled, a light blush rising in her cheeks. "Rumors? About me? Now that's a surprise," she teased, swirling her wine. "I'm not seeing anyone seriously at the moment. Just... too much going on, you know?"

Hannah nodded knowingly. "I can imagine. With your schedule, it must be hard to find time for anything personal. I barely manage it myself." She took a sip of wine, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "But there must be someone, non? I refuse to believe someone as stunning as you doesn't have at least one admirer."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, there's always someone interested," she admitted, a playful smirk on her lips. "But I guess I'm just... picky. I'd rather be on my own than settle for the wrong person. I've met too many of those…"

"Oui, I understand," Hannah said, leaning back with a sigh. "It's hard to know if someone likes you for you, or for what they think you can do for them. In this industry, everyone wants something."

"Exactly," Sarah agreed, her eyes softening with a hint of vulnerability. "I've had enough of people who are all about the status or what they can gain from me. I'm done with all that." She paused, glancing over at Hannah. "What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

Hannah shrugged casually, but a hint of sadness flickered in her eyes. "Oh, I have my flings, my distractions. But nothing serious. Nothing that lasts." She gave a wry smile. "Maybe it's the curse of being in this business—always on the move, always looking for the next big thing. It's hard to stay grounded, to find someone who can handle that."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully, understanding all too well. "It's funny, isn't it?" she said, her voice softer now, her guardedness easing toward the friendly French star. "We get to be around all this glamour and excitement, but behind it all, it can be so incredibly lonely..."

"Oui, exactly," Hannah said, her gaze growing distant momentarily. Then she brightened, nudging Sarah playfully with her elbow. "But hey, at least we have each other now. Who needs a man when we've got wine and good company?"

Sarah laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. "I'll drink to that," she said, raising her glass, and Hannah clinked hers against it with a delighted grin.

As the conversation between Sarah and Hannah continued, the easy flow of their chat felt refreshing—a genuine connection forming between them. They swapped a few stories and laughed about the eccentricities of the industry, each finding comfort in the other's company.

They had just been chuckling over a bizarre celebrity dating rumor when the door swung open, and Zondra stepped inside. Her presence was like a sudden chill, and Sarah's relaxed smile faded, her expression tightening despite her best efforts.

Hannah didn't miss a beat, continuing their conversation, eager to keep the friendly vibe going. "So," she said, leaning in with a warm smile, "If I'm reading everything right, a break from romance for you?"

"I don't know…" Sarah said with a sigh, her gaze turning distant, entering thought. "Every guy I meet ends up being a complete asshole."

Zondra let out a sudden scoff that sliced through the moment like a knife.

Sarah's eyes narrowed, annoyance flashing across her face.

Sensing the tension, Hannah pressed forward, her tone gentle. "But even after all that, you can't help but keep putting yourself out there, hoping for someone who'll treat you right, don't you?"

"Yes," Sarah said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Hannah chuckled, leaning back with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Maybe you should consider a different approach. Ever thought about looking for a woman instead?"

Sarah laughed, the sound light and genuine, but before she could respond, Zondra interrupted.

"Fat chance of that," Zondra muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for them both to hear.

The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter between Sarah and Hannah spoiled by a body of frustration in the form of Zondra Rizzo.

Hannah shot Zondra a disapproving look, her patience thinning.

Sarah, refusing to let Zondra's constant jabs slide, turned to her, her face hardening. "I don't remember you being a participant in our conversation."

Zondra's lips twisted into a smirk. "Oh, please. I just call it like I see it." She paused, eyeing Sarah with an almost mocking intensity. "There's more chance of me settling down than you changing your tastes. But despite that, you can't imagine you'll ever find someone who'll meet all those high expectations of yours, can you?"

Sarah's tone turned icy. "You know what's really obvious? That you can't stand not being the center of attention. Maybe if you spent more time listening and less time running your mouth, you'd actually get it. But I won't hold my breath."

The silence between them was heavy, charged with animosity.

Beckman, who had been quietly observing the growing tension from her seat beside Roan, intervened. "Ladies, please."

But Sarah wasn't done. She stood abruptly, slamming her wine glass onto a nearby table, her frustration boiling. "No, I've had it! I will not sit here and bite my tongue any longer while she keeps taking cheap shots." Her voice rose with every word. "You do not know what it's like when I'm constantly judged by everyone for every decision, for every relationship that fails. Maybe you should think twice before you run your mouth about things you don't and will never understand!"

Zondra's gaze turned venomous. "I think I understand perfectly. You're all about the drama, Sarah. You love the attention. I mean, it's not like you've ever had a shortage of dates. Or boyfriends. Or... well, you know, men in general. That's why you've gone through more relationships than everyone in this room, and that's saying something, because Roan's here."

Roan fought off a smirk, finding the dig towards him extremely amusing.

"That's rich coming from you!" Sarah spat back. "The one who throws a tantrum anytime you're not the focus!"

Hannah stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Sarah's arm, trying to keep her from going further. "Sarah, please, just breathe. It's not worth it."

But Sarah's eyes never left Zondra. "I didn't come here to be judged. And I'm not about to let you make me your punching bag because you can't let go of the past!"

"Sorry, Sarah," Zondra said, with no hint of remorse. "But sometimes the stench of bullshit chokes me. You've never been low profile. Ask yourself why your relationships always fail. I'll give you a hint. Look in the nearest mirror."

Sarah scoffed with such force that her neck jerked sharply.

But before she could respond, Hannah cast a distasteful glance at Zondra. "You know, Zondra, you're really not a nice person. Some people are just…unlucky in love, and I am sure that's the case for Sarah."

"Yeah right!" Zondra scoffed, which turned into suppressed irony. "And pigs fly, too. Get real, Hannah!"

"This is what I put up with for years in CATS," Sarah said, shaking her head as she looked around Hannah, Beckman, Roan, and other anxiously watching production staff. "It's been three years since I saw her last until today… Things haven't changed a bit since I last did. She's still a nasty horrible bitch and to think I ever considered her a friend."

Zondra crossed her arms. "Because it's never your fault, huh, Walker?"

"No, I don't think it is," Sarah said with a resolute nod. "Not for the breakup of the band, nor for all those fucking assholes I ditched who were unfaithful to me. Every single relationship I've ended… They shat on me first when they got with someone else behind my back."

Hannah offered Sarah a reassuring smile, while the others, except for Zondra, exchanged looks of sympathy.

Zondra, however, responded with a sharp, ironic scoff. "I don't buy it. One or two, you might fool some. But how many long-term is it now, five or six?"

"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't want to be alone?" Sarah asked, emotion dripping into her tone as Zondra's continued words started to really get to her—hurting all the more because she used to consider the same woman a sister. "Is it so wrong that I want to meet somebody to share life with and help me through the emptiness that comes with this life we all live?"

Zondra's eyes gleamed with malice as she crossed her arms, enjoying the discomfort she was causing. "I figured that from your last relationship I read about. They're getting much older and less attractive each time. Getting desperate, Walker?"

Sarah gritted her teeth. "Shut up and leave me the hell alone," she warned.

"Why? Can't handle the truth?" Zondra asked. "You know, Sarah, I don't get it. You've had more relationships than anyone else in this room, and they've all ended the same way—because you're too damn picky and too wrapped up in your own drama. Maybe that's why you can't keep anyone, not because they cheat."

Sarah's jaw clenched, the insult stinging so much more than she let on. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to rise to the bait.

"That is so unfair!" Hannah shouted, glaring at Zondra. "You should apologize for such hurtful things."

But Zondra wasn't finished. She leaned in closer towards Sarah, her voice laced with mock sympathy.

"But then again," Zondra continued, her smirk widening, "I guess it must be hard to find someone willing to put up with all that baggage. I mean, let's be real—what guy would want to deal with someone who's had as many failed relationships as you?"

Sarah's fists tightened, the edges of her calm cracking. She could feel the weight of Zondra's words pressing in on her chest. For a moment, she closed her eyes, trying to calm the fire inside her, but the words kept coming—each one stoking the flames. She would not sit back and let this happen again.

"I can't hear any more of this terrible behavior!" Hannah shouted, breaking her disdainful glance from Zondra to look at the concerned production staff instead. "Please bring security immediately!"

However, Zondra's next words pushed Sarah over the edge.

"And you know what? Maybe it's not the guys, Sarah. Maybe it's you. Maybe you're just too much of a cheap slut to be loved the way you think you deserve."

That was it. Sarah's breath hitched, the world narrowing around her as a surge of anger flooded her chest. Without thinking, she grabbed her glass of wine, the deep red liquid swishing dangerously within it. And before anyone could stop her, in a flash, she lunged forward, flinging the contents at Zondra's face.

The wine splashed across Zondra's face, streaking down her clothes.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again!" Sarah hissed, her voice cold as ice. "And if you ever think for one second that I'll let you belittle me again—think again!"

A stunned silence fell over the room.

Consumed by a surge of rage, Sarah raised the glass, ready to hurl the glass itself at Zondra.

But just before she could act, Hannah's hand shot out, gripping her arm. "No," she said firmly, her voice steady but pleading. "She's evil, but I beg you, think about the consequences for yourself before you do this."

Zondra stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide with disbelief as the wine dripped from her cheek. She wiped her face slowly, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Sarah stood there, trembling with fury, every fiber of her being screaming with the force of the insult. Zondra's words had cut so far deep—more than she could ever have imagined possible.

As Zondra began to regain her composure, her eyes narrowed in fury. "You b—!" Zondra started, consumed by rage, taking a step forward, but before she could say anything more or take another step, the venue security appeared, swiftly positioning themselves between the two women.

Even Beckman and Roan had risen from their seats.

Beckman, her voice commanding, stepped forward. "Enough!" she said firmly. "This goes beyond a band rivalry. This kind of behavior has no place on our show."

"You won't get away with what you just did, Walker!" Zondra screeched while being pulled out of the lounge by security.

Sarah stood frozen, her gaze locked on Zondra with a fierce intensity, still reeling from the personal attack that had cut far deeper than any words should have.

When Zondra disappeared, cursing under her breath, Hannah turned her focus back to Sarah.

"I'm sorry," the friendly French star said, stroking Sarah's arm. "You didn't deserve that. Not any bit of it."

Sarah let out a long sigh, her gaze drifting downward as she fought to regain her composure.

"Are you ok?" Hannah asked, continuing to rub Sarah's arm.

Sarah met Hannah's gaze, though it was a struggle, as Zondra's words remained in her mind, making her feel as though a great stain now lingered over her. "Those were some really mean and spiteful things to say to somebody…"

"I know," Hannah said with a consoling smile.

Sarah drew a depressive sigh. The damage of what Zondra had said was already done. "What I said was true… all my relationships ended that way," she protested.

"Yes," Hannah said without delay, giving Sarah's arm a reassuring rub. "I believe you. Don't let her win by doubting yourself. Everyone here knows there is no truth in the wicked things she said…"

Sarah's gaze lowered again. "It just sucks when you're in relationships where you're treated like shit and then people try to tell you it's somehow your fault."

Hannah positioned herself to give a consoling smile. "I understand. The great ones are so hard to find, but don't give up, because then people like her win."

Sarah forced herself to smile back, perking up slightly because of the friendly star.

"Maybe we should go out together sometime and meet two charming men. We can watch each other's back," Hannah said, still smiling.

"It's been a long time since I felt someone has had my back," Sarah admitted. "You're a really nice woman, Hannah, I mean that."

"Thank you," Hannah said with a friendly gaze. "You are too."

Sarah suppressed a chuckle, perking up a little more.

Hannah continued, "I always suspected you were a great person, but I'm glad to have finally met you. I would love to have your back as I would you to have mine."

Sarah smiled. "We should swap numbers. I would love to stay in contact."

"Oui," Hannah replied with a determined nod, her gaze hospitable. "Nothing anybody says will change that. I judge people by what I see. And I see a friendly person who has been used by vultures and just wants to meet somebody nice. Until that day comes, we now have each other."

X-X-X-X-X-X

The atmosphere remained tense as the judges returned to their seats on stage, Zondra now in a fresh outfit after the drenching of wine. The audience was unaware of the earlier chaos, chattering with anticipation as the next act prepared. Zondra sat stiffly in her chair, her lips pressed into a thin line, not even acknowledging Sarah, a few chairs away.

Sarah's expression was calm but guarded, her chin held high as if determined not to let Zondra's venomous words shake her resolve further than she already had.

Just as the show's lights dimmed to prepare for the next act, the lead producer strode up to the judges' panel, his face stern. He leaned close to Zondra, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"Listen, Zondra," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "What occurred at dinner was way out of line. I'm giving you one warning—this kind of behavior stops now. If you don't rein it in, you're off the show, effective immediately, and I'll replace you. No second chances."

Zondra's eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with a scoff. "Oh, so it's just me getting a warning, then?" she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "What about Madame Throw Wine over here?" She gestured toward Sarah with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The producer didn't flinch. "Sarah's reaction resulted from your antagonistic behavior," he said coldly. "I'm not excusing what she did, but you're the one who escalated things tonight. This isn't about favoritism—this is about professionalism. We need judges who can handle themselves with dignity on and off stage. Get it together, or I'll replace you faster than you can blink."

Zondra opened her mouth to fire back, but before she could, Hannah leaned over, her voice strong and unwavering. "You deserved the wine in your face," she said bluntly, her accent making the words sound even sharper. "You've been needling Sarah all day. But what you said just earlier was so far out of line. It's enough."

Zondra's eyes darted to Hannah, then to Roan and Beckman who were disgusted and wouldn't even acknowledge her, then back to the producer, realizing she had no allies. She sank back into her chair, her expression hardening. "Fine," she muttered. "Whatever you say. But I will not sit here and be some silent puppet."

"Good," the producer said, his eyes locking onto hers with a warning glint. "I don't need you to be silent. I need you to be professional." With that, he gave her one last meaningful look before walking off stage, leaving Zondra stewing silently.

A moment later, the next contestant appeared overhead, signaling the next performance, and the crowd's chatter hushed.

Hello, London! I'm Cole Barker, I'm 16 and I'm from Doncaster. I first found singing as a bit of a laugh. I was at a house party and I thought screw it and took the mic for the first time. The result was I almost blew the house down!

The audience laughed, sharing it with Cole, who let out a deep chuckle on the overhead sound system.

Sarah and Hannah, too, shared amusement, but Zondra remained pissed off.

I've been singing and dancing ever since! I can't promise to take myself too seriously out there on that stage, but I can promise I'll be giving it my all no matter what with my song choice of What Is Love by Haddaway!

The audience cheered, infusing themselves with Cole's positive energy. Even the judges, minus Zondra, got in the spirit for the impending party that Cole promised to provide.

A moment later, Cole stepped onto the stage, adding to the enthusiasm in the arena as the audience took in his great looks, remarkable physique, and confident swagger, each part grabbing the audience's attention.

The crowd showed their appreciation for Cole's striking looks with a lot of wolf-whistling and excited squeals from a large section of the females within the contingent.

Cole flashed a charming smile, fully aware of the effect he had on the crowd.

Soon after, he signaled for the music to begin.

The familiar beat of What Is Love by Haddaway pulsed through the arena.

Cole started singing and his voice, though not the strongest among the contestants, had a playful tone that matched the upbeat vibe of the song. As he sang, Cole moved with a fluid grace that showcased his incredible dancing skills, his gym-honed body gliding effortlessly across the stage. He spun, jumped, and executed every move with ease, drawing cheers and applause from the audience.

Sarah and Hannah soon turned, tuning in and feeling Cole's audition.

Beckman and Roan followed a moment later, and then finally Zondra, who overcame her frustration to focus on the contestant.

With all five judges now facing Cole, Roan raised an eyebrow, impressed by Cole's charisma, while Beckman smiled, entertained.

But it was Hannah and Sarah who lit up, caught up in the joy of the performance.

As Cole hit the chorus, Hannah jumped to her feet, clapping along, and Sarah couldn't resist joining her. The two danced in their seats, swept away by the uplifting energy of his performance. Their laughter filled the air as they moved in sync with the rhythm, the moment feeling like a celebration of everything happening on stage.

In a spontaneous moment, both judges hit their golden buzzers almost simultaneously, showering the stage with a cascade of glittering confetti, just not the whole contents because of only the two buzzes. Cole, finishing the song with a final spin, couldn't believe his eyes as he looked up to see the confetti raining down around him, emitting a boisterous chuckle.

The audience reacted with cheers, but two golden buzzes weren't enough to give Cole a golden ticket.

"Wow, that was unexpected!" Roan laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "But I can see why you both hit the buzzer. You've got the moves, Cole!"

"Thanks! I know two aren't enough, but I'm happy with that!" Cole beamed, chuckling again as he soaked in the moment, thrilled by the reception.

When the cheers and applause from the audience settled enough, Sarah returned to her seat and started the review with a friendly smile. "Cole, I have to say, your maturity is extremely impressive for someone who's only 16. You carried yourself like a seasoned performer out there. And you look every bit the part, too."

Zondra gave a reluctant nod—but it was the truth. "I don't agree with her on much, as everyone no doubt is aware. But I agreed with every word of that. You look like a pop star, and you're fun. I have concerns about your vocals, a fair amount actually, but you deserve a chance to work on those."

Cole nodded. "That's fair! But I'll work hard on it! And that's a promise!"

"We can see that," Hannah said, taking in his impressive physique. "Your voice needs work, yes, but you are a great dancer, and wow, you look great."

Cole flashed his pearly whites at Hannah. "Thanks! I appreciate that! You look beautiful too, and Sarah, of course!"

Sarah joined Hannah in blushing at the compliment from the contestant, each sharing smiles with Cole.

"You believe you have what it takes to win this competition?" Beckman inquired with a formed glance.

Cole nodded. "I hope so!" he said, emitting another chuckle. "Or else what's the point of even being here?"

The five judges gave a nod of respect, impressed by Cole's attitude. They could each tell by his demeanor that he meant every word.

"Well, Cole, thanks for the compliment and you look great too," Sarah said with a smile, impressed by his charming swagger. "We'll see you in the next round."

Cole let out a final chuckle, then turned and waved to everyone as he departed the stage.

The judges turned to look at each other.

"Great attitude," Hannah said with a smile.

Sarah nodded. "And you can tell he's hard-working because, for someone just 16, that might be one of the most impressive physiques I've seen."

Hannah gave a soft chuckle. "Oui!"

"He would be a great leader and motivator," Roan mused, a hand placed on his chin. "His voice was a mile from being the best, but he looked and behaved as much a seasoned star as Devon."

The judges' chairs turned back to face the audience to prepare for the next contestant.

As the show continued, the next few auditionees passed or failed their auditions until the next set of contestants appeared on the stage.

The spotlight flickered back to life, following a motley ensemble of five young performers known as "The Hit and Misses," shuffling onto the stage, looking a mix of nervous and overconfident.

In their voice-over introduction, they'd described themselves as the next big thing. The judges, however, remained unconvinced.

A moment later, as The Hit and Misses attempted to rouse the crowd, each shouting into microphones, the opening of a catchy pop song played overhead.

Roan Montgomery leaned back in his chair, a look of doubt creeping onto his face. He took a sip of his martini, preparing for what he hoped would be a pleasant surprise, but the moment they began their performance, they were anything but ready.

Their timing was off from the very first beat. The lead singer belted the opening line but was so out of tune that several audience members winced. The harmony they had practiced fell apart, with each member trying to sing over the other, creating a cacophony that resembled a broken record rather than a cohesive song.

As they fumbled through the lyrics, the dancer at the back tried to compensate with elaborate moves, but his choreography seemed to have no connection to the music, resembling more of a chaotic flail than a polished routine.

The audience winced extensively, a lot of them hiding their faces.

Hannah and Sarah exchanged confused glances, unsure whether to laugh or cringe at the disaster unfolding behind them.

Fortunately for the judges, they didn't have to see the performance, nor did each one of them intend to turn around and see it unfold.

"Is this really happening?" Zondra asked, unable to suppress a chuckle.

Beckman gave a firm shake of her head, wishing for earplugs and control of Roan's red buzzer at this very moment.

Meanwhile, Roan sat forward, his expression darkening as the performance dragged on. "Come on! You can't be serious!" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

The audience groaned with discontent, while others erupted in laughter, the kind painful to witness.

Roan's patience wore thin as he sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "This is a talent show, not a comedy act!" he exclaimed, his frustration through the roof, aided by the alcohol he'd drunk already.

The lead singer attempted another soaring note, but it cracked painfully, reverberating through the auditorium. The rest of the band faltered, losing the beat as their voices wobbled and fractured.

Groans and jeers rippled through the crowd, and even the judges cringed, hiding their faces or covering their ears in secondhand embarrassment.

Beckman's expression hardened with fury as she shot a sharp look at Roan. "Roan, end this now!"

"I'm not turning around to witness that disaster!" Roan shouted back, clamping a hand over his ear as the lead singer tried and failed to hit yet another high note.

Laughter erupted from the audience, eyes darting between the stage catastrophe and the judges' panel.

Beckman suddenly snapped, leaping to her feet. "Fine! If you won't, I will!" She lunged forward, slamming her palm down on Roan's red buzzer with a decisive smack.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their approval echoing louder than any note the band had hit.

Roan cast a fierce glance at Beckman, his eyes narrowing in defiance as his chair slowly swiveled to face the stage. The cacophony of off-key notes hit him full force, and his expression shifted from irritation to sheer disbelief. He winced, teeth gritted, as the lead singer made another desperate attempt at a high note despite the soundtrack ceasing overhead.

"Happy now?!" he snapped at Beckman, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to regret forcing him to turn.

Zondra, Hannah, and Sarah joined the audience in laughing, finding Beckman's actions blockbuster.

Roan glared to his left and right, then directed his fury at The Hit and Misses, burying his face in his hands for a moment, overwhelmed by the cringeworthy spectacle.

Looking back at them a moment later, he said, "Do you even know what you just put us through?!" he shouted, anger consuming him. "I'd call that a train wreck, but I don't want to insult trains!"

The audience roared with laughter.

The Hit and Misses stood there, wide-eyed and confused, unsure of whether they had just bombed spectacularly or if there was still a glimmer of hope in Roan's biting critique. The other judges tried to keep straight faces, but even they struggled against the gravity of the moment.

"Get out of here before I have you all locked up for indecent exposure!" Roan bellowed.

All the remaining judges succumbed to intense snorts, but most couldn't hold in their laughter, sharing it with the audience for a long moment.

The Hit and Misses, now shamed, exited the stage.

Roan leaned back, shaking his head. "Let's hope the final two acts of London are a damned sight better than that disaster!" he grumbled.

His chair soon reset to face the audience as laughter from the panel and crowd lingered until the lights dimmed, signaling the next contestant's arrival.

A moment later, the penultimate voice appeared overhead.

Hey, I'm Bryce Larkin. I'm 18 and I'm from Bradford. My sister's the real reason I'm here—she always loved music and begged me to sing at family gatherings and to her friends.

Bryce paused, and the crowd's laughter faded, replaced by a collective hush. The judges leaned in, intrigued by the smooth, sultry-like voice that seemed to wrap around the venue.

"'Let's hope he's good-looking enough to match his confidence," Zondra muttered.

It was the girls, honestly. They all kept pushing me to take it seriously. You know, the whole 'you've got a great voice, why not give it a shot?' kind of thing. So... here I am. If it makes them all happy, it's worth it. My choice of song is Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon.

Sarah sat back, arms crossed, a curious look on her face. Another guy riding on his charm, she thought, half-smiling, half-tired, because that was the typical profile of the assholes who'd cheated on her.

Besides Sarah, many eyes narrowed within the venue, everybody intrigued by his confidence, the seducing charm through his tone, as well as his equally ensnaring choice of song.

Zondra, however, scoffed. "Yep, full of himself."

Roan chuckled, leaning forward. "Let's hope, for the girls' sake, he's got the voice and looks to back it up."

The lights dimmed, and the spotlight clicked on, bathing Bryce in a golden glow as he stepped onto the stage, catching the self-assured glint in his eyes.

"Hey," he said into the mic he held, flashing a casual smile towards the venue ahead of him.

The audience, awestruck by his beauty, reacted with many audible gasps and wolf whistles.

A smirk tugged at Bryce's lips as he ran his free hand through his perfectly tousled hair as if he already knew he'd won the crowd over before he even sang a note. His walk was confident, and smooth—like he'd been born to command a stage.

The crowd's anticipation grew as Bryce adjusted the microphone with deliberate slowness. He moved like he owned the space, glancing out at the crowd with that same cocky, almost teasing smile. Additional cheers and wolf-whistles echoed from the back, and a group of girls in the front row leaned forward, eyes wide, some already fanning themselves with their hands.

Bryce gave the audience one last, knowing smile—the kind that said he was more than aware of the effect he had on them—before turning his attention inward, readying himself to begin. The lights dimmed slightly, and the first guitar riffs echoed through the auditorium. With the crowd's full attention locked onto him, he took a deep breath and leaned into the mic, ready to put on the show of his life.

He caught the timing perfectly, launching into the song with a swagger that set the room alight.

Sarah felt herself drawn in, just a little. His voice had a raw quality, a huskiness appealing to the mind.

The judges sat still, their backs to the stage, listening intently. Bryce's tone was rich, his voice effortlessly sultry as he played to the crowd's anticipation.

Cheers from the audience grew louder as he upped the charm, swaying his hips and flashing a teasing smile at the front row. He was putting everything into seducing the room—every note, every glance, every sway of his body radiating raw charisma.

Then, the first judge buzzed in—Hannah's hand slapping the green button with a decisive thud. Her chair spun around to face the stage, eyes lighting up as she saw the tall, handsome young man commanding the space. Not far behind, Roan leaned forward, eyebrows lifting in surprise as he hit his button, his chair swinging around. Beckman hesitated for a fraction of a second longer, her expression thoughtful as she considered his voice—then, with a reluctant sigh, she hit her button too.

All three judges were now facing Bryce, seeing his confident stage presence firsthand. His good looks and charisma were undeniable, and the audience's excitement had become almost feverish. Bryce caught sight of the turned chairs and his grin widened, his voice taking on a more playful, teasing edge. He seemed to feed off the attention, ramping up the swagger with every line, fully aware of the effect he was having, casting a wink at Hannah.

Sarah's eyebrows lifted as she hesitated, her fingers hesitating over the button, not rushing into it because she had no further energy for a war with Zondra if she pressed for every guy like the one behind her.

However, a moment later, as Bryce hit another particularly seducing note, she caved. With a small, resigned sigh, she hit her buzz, as did Zondra.

No sooner than Sarah turned, she could already see the appeal the entire crowd felt—he was extremely handsome, magnetic, and knew how to hold an audience.

But his voice was rough around the edges, unfocused. The voice, being key to the first audition and why they were turned away in the first place, was what they were paying Sarah to judge, not all the rest, which Bryce at least had those sections in abundance.

Just when she was about to consider that she regretted turning, Bryce shot her a devilish grin, almost as if daring her to enjoy herself.

Her breath caught briefly, knowing he knew exactly what he was doing. A split second later, she conceded to enjoying herself a bit, her lips pressing into a thin line.

A part of her wanted to roll her eyes, but the other part, the one trained to spot potential, couldn't deny his stage presence. She liked his confidence, even if it was misplaced, and there was something in his tone that hinted at real potential if he got serious and departed from his 'come to bed' performance.

However, as the song progressed, the initial magic waned. His performance, while captivating, lacked the vocal depth and finesse needed to sweep the judges off their feet. He was so focused on the theatrics—on the sensual way he looked and moved—that his voice lost control, sliding off-pitch in places, falling short of the raw power needed for the chorus. His eyes darted nervously towards the judges as if realizing his grip on the moment was slipping.

"Come on," Sarah muttered, almost pleadingly, her fingers tightening on the armrest. He had so much potential, but he was letting it slip through his fingers.

Hannah's expression grew tense, her brows furrowing as Bryce missed another note. Sarah bit her lip, feeling the same frustration. He had started strong, but the more he tried to seduce the crowd, the less his voice held up. There was a moment when he caught Sarah's eye again, and she saw a flicker of something—doubt, maybe panic. He knew he was slipping, but he didn't know how to pull himself back.

Roan's brows furrowed, his excitement dimming as Bryce hit a strained high note, his tone faltering where it should have been commanding. Beckman's expression remained neutral, a slight frown tugging at her lips as she heard him struggle through a key transition, seeing the star potential in his appearance, but his voice lagging way behind.

Bryce, detecting the subtle shifts in their expressions, continued to perform, the crowd still loving every second—cheers and applause filling the gaps where his voice failed.

When the song ended, Bryce held the last note with a dramatic flourish, and the crowd's applause was deafening. He stood there, chest heaving, ignoring the disappointment from the panel, soaking up the adoration instead.

Sarah's gaze remained critical. She clapped respectfully, acknowledging his charisma but feeling the missed opportunity in his performance.

Hannah also clapped politely, her expression torn between admiration and disappointment. Roan's lips were pressed into a tight line, while Beckman held a critical gleam as she considered him.

Bryce then flashed a persuasive smile at Sarah, and she felt a reluctant smile tug at her lips in reply. If he gets serious about his voice, she thought, he could be a genuine contender, because he's so beautiful.

However, she'd seen too many performers who relied on looks alone, and she wasn't about to get swept up in the hype. With one last glance at the young man on stage, she sat back, fingers drumming thoughtfully on her chair's armrest. She had turned for him, but he'd have to prove he was much more than just a pretty face if he wanted to keep her attention, for she'd seen many of those throughout her career and this was a singing competition, not Britain's next hot model.

The rest of the judges felt the same—they'd seen the potential, but they'd also seen how he let his natural charisma overshadow the artistry of his singing. He had the makings of a star, easily the best-looking of the day, but there was still so much work to be done.

Zondra spoke first, tilting her head as she regarded him. "You've definitely got stage presence," she said carefully. "You're charming and clearly comfortable up there... but the vocals need a lot of work." She didn't sugarcoat it, and her bluntness made Bryce's smile slip a bit.

Her criticism caused the audience to intensely heckle her, Bryce already a crowd favorite.

But Hannah nodded in agreement with Zondra. "I think you have a good voice, Bryce!" she shouted above the crowd's hostility. "But I'm not sure you took the performance seriously enough. There's a lot of potential there, but you were more focused on seducing us than singing."

The discontent within the crowd continued. However, Sarah nodded, unable to disagree with a word of either of them.

What was left of Bryce's smile evaporated once Sarah lent her support to the criticism with her nod.

Then she gave her review. "You look great, Bryce, truly," she said with a smile, then it soon faded. "But the industry is about so much more than looking good. It's about hard work and putting on a complete performance. If just sex appeal was wanted, which you have in abundance, then every singer would be a model… But that's not how it goes. Your vocals were lacking. A lot. I'm sorry."

Again, the crowd voiced an all-out assault on the judges, each in disagreement and rushing to defend the seducing hottie rooted center stage.

Roan grew irritated and stood, turning to glare at the crowd. "Boo them all you want! They are the experts, and if Bryce is smart, he will listen and take on board every word!"

"I will," Bryce said with an accepting nod.

Beckman took over the review. "You have potential," she said with a nod. "But if you want to be a serious contender in this competition, you will need to stop pretending you're already the complete star. Right now, you're not."

Bryce gave another nod, his confidence now rattled by the intense criticism from the panel.

Sarah concluded the review, emitting another smile. "You're still through to the next round. And you have a lot of stage presence and appeal… We just want you to focus on your voice because we can each see you have a lot of potential. You just need to show us what we want to see and what we are all here for."

"That's fair," Bryce said, nodding again, the seeds of doubt sown within him. "I showed off too much without the vocals to back it up. I think I was far from terrible, but I know I could have done a whole lot better in that regard."

Roan suddenly gained a lot more respect for him. "Take the time before your next audition to work on it."

"I will," Bryce said with a last nod.

The judges returned nods to him, then Bryce flashed a final smile to the venue, turned, and departed the stage knowing he'd gotten through, but it wasn't the easy victory he'd expected.

He knew he'd have to step up his game if he wanted to win them over for real.

When he was gone, the judges turned to each other.

"Well, even if this next final audition isn't hot, thank you for bringing out all the hotties today, Sarah," Hannah said with a giggle.

Sarah smiled. "I agree. He's one of the best-looking guys I've ever seen. I just wish he backed that up with his vocals. I'm certain there was something there. He just let his confidence, which stepped into arrogance, get to his head."

The other panelists nodded.

"When someone's trying as hard as he was to seduce every woman in this venue…" Zondra said, glancing at the others, "It means they have something to hide."

Sarah met Zondra's glance. "Like what?" she asked, biting, against her better judgment.

"He's gay," Zondra said, matter-of-factly.

Sarah let rip a sharp scoff. "Yeah right!"

"Want to bet?" Zondra asked.

Sarah entered thought for a moment. "Actually, you know what?" she said, then nodded. "I do."

"Me too," Hannah said with a friendly smile.

Zondra cast another glance around the panel. "I'll gladly 1v4 on this. I know the signs."

"So do I," Sarah muttered, unwilling to accept that the incubus that just had every woman in the palms of his hand was gay.

However, Roan raised a hand to his chin, entering consideration.

Beckman, too, mulled over it somewhat.

But their sudden chairs turning to face the audience ahead of the last performance put an end to the discussion.

"The final contestant, huh?" Roan remarked, his mind weighing over a successful first day. "As is always the case, they are a complete surprise or a complete failure…"

The audience laughed on, while the other judges grew slightly anxious, hoping the London auditions would sign off on a high.

A moment later, the final contestant appeared overhead.

Hey, I'm Chuck Bartowski! I'm 17, from Cheshire, and singing is something I've always wanted to do!

The energy in the venue shifted, and a buzz of excitement from Chuck's enthusiasm spread like wildfire, similar to the atmosphere of Devon's earlier audition.

Sarah couldn't help but smile as she heard his voice, light and almost playful, with a warmth that drew people in. It wasn't sultry like Bryce's; it was soft and inviting, a tone so lilting that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

Those around me, despite supporting my singing, have always encouraged me to go on and become a Bill Gates with style instead.

Laughter spread through the crowd—some ironic, some filled with admiration for his candor. But there was something about his self-deprecating humor that made it hard not to root for him. He was genuine, completely himself.

But how could I do that knowing becoming a singer is all that I have ever wanted? He said, his voice softening. It's been my dream, always…

A collective murmur of "Awws" rose from the audience, heads turning towards where he'd soon emerge from.

Sarah's heart twinged. She glanced at Hannah, who had a small, knowing smile on her lips. Chuck's dream, his warmth, the honesty in his voice—they were moving people, them included, far beyond the surface. Even the hardened judges leaned forward slightly.

Ever since I was a baby, my mum was always there, singing to me. She was amazing… and she's the biggest inspiration for why I took up singing. I always wanted to be a gifted singer, like her…

A pause.

The venue fell deathly quiet.

Sarah's breath caught in her throat, a sudden lump rising in her chest. She glanced at Hannah, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. It didn't take much to guess where this was going.

She's the reason I'm auditioning today, Chuck's voice cracked, just slightly, but enough to make the silence more profound. To hopefully make her proud, from wherever she's looking down at me from in heaven…

And there it was.

A sharp intake of breath swept across the arena, the crowd gasping in sync.

The impact of his words hung in the air, a chilling silence enveloping.

Sarah's vision blurred as tears gathered, falling silently down her cheeks. She sniffled, trying to hold herself together. Hannah's lips trembled, fighting back her own tears. Neither were alone, as many eyes wet within the venue, from young to old.

The venue heard Chuck take a steadying breath before he continued, his voice once again steady, though Sarah heard vulnerability lingering in his tone.

The song I'm going to sing is called Guiding Light. I wrote it myself. I hope you'll enjoy it, but if not, that's ok, I'll still appreciate the time you've already given me.

With that, the overhead system went quiet, signaling the end of Chuck's introduction.

"Please be good," Sarah begged in a whisper, running her hands over her moist face to scoop emotion she'd already bled, "Oh, I so hope he's good… I want this one to make it more than every other one today."

An eerie silence fell over the audience as they awaited Chuck's arrival.

Sarah took in several sharp breaths, her emotions already overwhelmed. If there was someone she'd always root for most, it was the guys who were always overlooked, the ones who never seemed to catch a break, the great guys who were also the underdog.

Chuck seemed to be both.

Not to mention his heart-wrenching story in the loss of his mother.

A moment later, Chuck stepped onto the stage, the spotlight blazing to life above him, his outfit a modest hoodie and jeans with a pair of converse sneakers.

The crowd erupted immediately.

A thunderous wave of cheers rolled through the venue, ignited by every young or teenage girl in attendance.

"Hey," Chuck said, his voice barely audible over the noise as he flashed a shy grin. The reaction was instantaneous—the volume climbed another notch, a chorus of excited, over-exuberant squeals from thousands of girls responding to the boy-next-door charm radiating from him.

Sarah's hand hesitated over her green buzzer, desperate to see what had the audience so electrified. But she held back, wanting to judge Chuck on his singing, not just his tragic backstory. He deserved that fairness.

When Chuck stopped center stage, he paused, building up his courage and fighting his nerves. He took a long, shaky inhale, picked up by the microphone.

"Aww!" Hannah cooed, pressing a hand to her heart. "He's so nervous."

The audience, sensing his anxiety, responded with a renewed wave of encouragement, their cheers even louder, led by the piercing squeals of thousands of adoring young girls.

Chuck took one final, deep breath, steadying himself. Then, with his eyes closed, he sang, his voice soft and breathy, delivering the opening lines with a fragile tenderness that captured the delicate, emotional nature of the song:

In the silence of the night, I feel the weight of loss,

Memories linger like shadows, but I'll bear the cost.

A tear slipped down Sarah's cheek. She already knew what this song was about—knew exactly who it was for. With trembling hands, she pressed her green buzzer, feeling that this boy, this raw and vulnerable performance, needed her undivided attention.

Hannah followed suit, gently pressing her buzzer with misty eyes.

As their chairs turned to face the stage, Chuck continued, his voice gaining a touch more confidence with each note:

Every tear that falls, I'm learning how to stand,

With every broken piece, I'll build my own command.

"Mon Dieu!" My god! Hannah gasped, her eyes widening as her glance locked on Chuck. "He's so adorable! And that voice!"

The crowd rushed to support Hannah, the girls in attendance once more squealing over-joyously.

"He's beautiful," Sarah murmured, her voice thick with emotion, already touched far beyond words. Chuck was undeniably very handsome—tall and gangly in the way of a young man who had yet to fully grow into his height, already approaching 6'3". Yet something was so captivating about his softness, his delicate, striking features, his mop of messy dark hair and the way his nervousness made him seem younger than his seventeen years.

The audience quieted as Chuck entered the pre-chorus. The hush was one of reverence, a kind of shared recognition that they were hearing a story, his story, and they were all holding their breath, waiting to see how it would unfold.

Though the road is long and winding,

I'll carry on through the pain,

He opened his eyes briefly, offering the audience a tentative, nervous smile.

The crowd responded with a supportive roar, their cheers swelling into a collective show of encouragement—a wave of emotion that seemed to lift Chuck, propelling him forward.

With every heartbeat reminding,

Love remains, love remains.

As Chuck finished with a melisma, Sarah's heart ached, her tears falling freely again now, her attention fixed on the boy who dared to bear his soul to the world. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. She could feel the power of his gentle yet incredibly poignant voice, one she'd already decided she'd pay to listen to a hundred times over.

And then, with a subtle shift, Chuck launched into the chorus. His voice, fragile and airy before, took flight with unexpected strength.

You're my guiding light, shining through the dark,

In the whispers of the wind, I hear your shout.

"Hm, a high tenor," Beckman observed thoughtfully, her gaze narrowing as she considered his potential.

The crowd cheered on, impressed by Chuck's impressive vocal range to shift from a soft, dreamy tone to an explosion in strength, one which could command a room.

Sarah's mouth fell open in surprise. The pure, intense clarity of his tone stunned her, and she instinctively turned to Hannah, sharing the amazement in her eyes.

Their gaze returned to Chuck, and without hesitation, they both slammed their golden buzzers, releasing a cascade of golden confetti. Chuck continued singing, oblivious to the golden rain falling around him, his eyes closed as he poured every ounce of emotion into the song.

I'll channel all this grief into something bright,

For my sister and for you, I'll fight the night.

As the confetti settled around him, Chuck's eyes fluttered open in surprise. A fleeting expression of uncertainty crossed his face, but he pushed through, recovering his rhythm in time with the song's beat.

Life's a winding road, but love's the path I choose,

In your memory, I'll rise, I'll never lose.

As he finished the last note of his chorus, he finished with an uplifting melisma.

Zondra had already heard enough. Actually, that moment had come much earlier, but not being one for emotions, she held off for as long as possible but couldn't hold back a moment more, fighting hard to avoid her eyes moistening. She hit her green buzz with conviction, then moved to stand, honoring the amazing singing voice behind her as well as a gifted songwriter.

As Zondra turned, her glance came into contact with a cute boy center stage, gripping the microphone stand for dear life, his eyes closed and losing himself in the performance and his own little world. Those characteristics were typical of an emotional singer, but she grimaced all the same. While she knew Chuck was connecting with everyone in the audience, it was a personal gripe of hers, when not afforded the courtesy of seeing the performer's eyes as they told their story.

Beckman, who had remained stone-faced throughout, too, became convinced by Chuck's voice. Only instead of a green buzz, she came in with a golden, causing another wave of confetti. Chuck was officially through to the global auditions with a golden ticket.

Chuck moved into the second verse, his voice softer, more intimate.

Each step that I take, I feel your hands in mine,

Holding on to hope, we'll dance through the time.

Beckman, now turned, frowned, observing how Chuck seemed rooted to one spot, eyes shut and visibly nervous. His singing was phenomenal, but he lacked the charisma of a pop star. He wasn't commanding the stage—he was merely surviving it.

A recording voice alone was fine for a studio artist, but not for a popstar. To be a pop star required stage presence and the ability to sell out packed arenas with commanding energy.

Chuck pressed on, his voice quivering with emotion.

Every laugh, every joy, I'll share it like we used to,

With my heart wide open, I'll keep your spirit true.

A sudden murmur from the crowd made everyone turn their heads—Roan had slumped forward, appearing asleep, hovering perilously close to his red buzzer. The audience screamed "NO!" in unison, and Chuck, visibly startled, faltered.

Sarah's hand flew to her chest as she shot her gaze at Roan, realizing just how close Chuck had come to losing his chance, for the red button would always override anything else.

Chuck gathered himself quickly, his voice shaking as he forced himself back on track.

Though the shadows may surround me,

I won't falter, I won't stray,

He paused for a moment, the interruption playing havoc with his composure.

Seeing Chuck's struggle, Hannah, in a moment of spontaneity, stood up and paced towards the stage, climbing the steps until she was sitting just off the edge. "We're all here with you, Chuck," she encouraged softly. "Sing it to the end with everything you have."

Chuck's eyes briefly met hers, and with a shaky nod, he dove back into the music.

With your love to guide me,

I'll find my way, I'll find my way.

Hannah smiled, Chuck's composure to deliver the song restored.

A group of girls seated together, midway through the audience, shouted, "We love you, Chuck!"

Chuck, now in his own little bubble again, his voice soared with renewed energy, spilling into a powerful chorus.

You're my guiding light, shining through the dark,

In the whispers of the wind, I hear your shout.

I'll channel all this grief into something bright,

For my sister and for you, I'll fight the night.

Tears streamed freely down Sarah's face. Chuck's voice was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard—raw, emotional, intense, utterly captivating. She smiled through the tears, feeling every note resonate inside her so deeply in a way no artist had ever managed before. She could only sit and take it in, incapable of moving beyond a constant wipe at her eyes.

Chuck continued the rest of the chorus.

Life's a winding road, but love's the path I choose,

In your memory, I'll rise, I'll never lose.

As he finished, he opened his eyes, searching for something—reassurance, validation, or maybe a connection.

His gaze landed on Sarah, by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She looked like an emotional wreck right now, and yet, the smile and intense look in her eye she was giving him made him feel something he'd not felt ever before.

That moment between them gave him the confidence and final push he needed, and he launched into the bridge.

When the world feels heavy, and I'm losing sight,

I'll close my eyes and feel you, holding me tight.

Through the storms and the trials, I will carry on,

With love as my armor, I'll keep moving strong.

Sarah's breath hitched as she tried to contain the tidal wave of emotions, but it was no use. She was a complete wreck. Chuck's voice, raw and full of unguarded emotion—delivered by an already world-class recording voice—pulled her under, leaving her powerless to do anything but watch and listen.

And then, with every ounce of courage he had left, Chuck powered into the final chorus, his voice soaring to new heights, clear and ringing, reverberating through the arena.

You're my guiding light, shining through the dark,

In the whispers of the wind, I hear your shout.

I'll channel all this grief into something bright,

For my sister and for you, I'll fight the night.

Life's a winding road, but love's the path I choose,

In your memory, I'll rise, I'll never lose.

Sarah's hand trembled over the golden buzzer as Chuck's voice reached its highest note with a falsetto, resisting the urge to press it again and again and again, because she knew it would put him off if she did. It was like nothing she'd heard before—pure, raw, and painfully real, backed by explosive power vocals. He had it all. Heart, body, voice, and soul.

At this moment, she felt like he had all of hers too.

In the front row, a girl clutched her friend's arm, eyes glistening with tears—a scene replicated amongst every tier of the audience, from many hundreds of spectators.

Chuck entered the outro, his voice softer now, almost a breathy whisper, but the emotion remained equally moving.

So here's to the moments, the love that we shared,

In every note I sing, know how much I cared.

Though life may be fleeting, your love will remain,

In my heart, in my soul, I'll carry your name.

His voice quivered on the last line, but he held steady, pouring his heart into every word. It was as if he was no longer performing for the crowd or the judges, but singing to someone who was no longer there, his eyes half-closed, lost in the song's emotion.

The crowd held its breath, utterly captivated. There was total silence for several heartbeats—a fragile, perfect stillness hanging in the air as the venue entered stunned silence.

A second turned into five, and five into ten, then, suddenly, Hannah, unable to contain herself any longer, sprung forward and, in an unexpected burst of emotion, ran onto the stage.

She pulled Chuck into a tight embrace, holding him as if he might shatter if she let go.

Her eyes filled with tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

"That was... breathtaking," she whispered into his ear, her voice catching. "So incredibly breathtaking! Your voice is so perfect! You're going to change lives, Chuck! You just did!"

Chuck froze for a moment, stunned, before hugging her back.

The audience exploded with an eruption of cheers. The ovation was deafening, a sea of applause so extremely loud that swelled like a tidal wave around them.

Everyone in the crowd rose to their feet and there was not a single girl in sight who was not squealing at the top of their lungs, while the older individuals wiped away at their eyes.

Sarah stood in her chair, wiping away many tears from her cheeks as she watched Hannah comfort the young man who had laid his soul bare before all of them. She felt a mix of awe, sadness, and a strange, intense swelling of pride filling her chest.

Her glance locked on him—just like everyone else.

She'd also never heard an arena as loud as it was right now, the intense outpouring from every person in the arena overwhelming.

Stepping forward to join them, Sarah offered Chuck a radiant smile, her eyes glistening. "That was more than a performance, Chuck!" she shouted above the deafening sound in the arena, her voice strong despite the emotion in it. "It was a gift! A so very special gift! Thank you so much for sharing that with us all! You have the best voice I've ever heard!"

"Oui!" Hannah shouted her agreement above the cacophony of noise. "Ooh la la! Every girl in here, including Sarah and I, loves you, Chuck!"

Chuck's lips trembled, and he blinked rapidly, trying to keep his own tears at bay. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He simply nodded, smiling through the overwhelming emotion, and for that one moment, the three of them stood together under the golden confetti, united by the power of his song.

A moment later, Chuck couldn't hold in those emotions anymore, bursting into tears, causing Sarah and Hannah to nestle him into them both for a long moment as wave after wave of support from the audience flooded in.

"Your mother would be so proud of you, Chuck, I promise!" Sarah whispered into the embrace, rubbing away at his back, bleeding further emotion along with him.

Chuck tightened into the embrace with Sarah, clinging to her after her reassurance.

"Oui!" Hannah whispered, mirroring Sarah's actions, a fresh wave of burning tears leaving her too. "And so is everybody in here."

Soon after, once Zondra saw Chuck calm slightly, she wiped her own eyes and offered her own support in a way best suited to her. With purpose, she reached forward to slam her golden buzzer that she was always going to press after he'd blown her away vocally.

Only a few seconds later, as if waiting for everyone to go first to make the ultimate statement himself, Roan suddenly came back to life, his hand reaching to slam his own golden buzz, and he rose to stand with a dazzling grin, martini in hand as his chair to face the stage.

The venue lit up with golden lighting, signaling a perfect five-seat golden audition, the third and final of the day.

"Bravo!" Roan drawled, with a courteous bow towards Chuck, who had touched every heart inside the packed venue.

The already euphoric atmosphere exploded to a new level, the noise level so loud the roof above the venue almost felt like it could blow off, every corner of the venue shaking.

Sarah shot an immediate glare toward Roan, her eyes burning with intense fury knowing he had been playing all along as a pantomime villain and hadn't fallen asleep. "YOU FUC-!"

"Family show, Sarah!" Roan interrupted, shouting with a smirk above the crowd as best he could.

Sarah halted all words, pausing as she drew out an intense sigh to compose herself, seething at Roan's games.

Looking back towards Chuck and Hannah, her frustration towards Roan's showmanship and trickery eased, knowing the moment wasn't about anything or anyone except Chuck Bartowski.

As the thunderous ovation continued for several minutes, Sarah knew this wasn't just the end of a song—it was the beginning of something extraordinary.

The audience knew it too.

This charming boy had just won over a whole arena and probably a large contingent of the globe when his audition aired by leaving his heart and soul on the stage, with a voice from out of this world.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Tune in next chapter for the aftermath, including the judges' review of Chuck, as well as Sarah needing to head straight backstage to speak with Chuck. I will also have a lot more surprises in the chapter.

FOOTNOTES: Thank you for reading today. I'd really appreciate a review of what you think about the chapter. It's a HUGE chapter (both in length and impact) and I put so much effort into it. I hope you enjoyed it. See you soon with chapter three!